Hopelessly Devoted
by swampstarchild
Summary: After so much time, Noel wants more from their relationship. He doesn't get the response he was hoping for. RPF, RPS, Noel/Julian, alcohol, language, drug use.


He doesn't understand what is happening to him, how he could let this mustached Northern man break his heart again and again. And the way Julian made it look so easy! Because sure, a few jabbing words could do some damage, but nothing vocal could sink this harlequin babe.

It was really the silence that hurt most.

It may well be intentional. Julian knew him well; he ought to know what would crush Noel the most. Though he had continuously done his best to hide it so well, under his toothy grin and big baby seal eyes of blue. Nobody had a clue how much he was aching inside, 'cept for Ju. And for that, Noel trusted him. Maybe that's why he let himself be so vulnerable.

Whatever intent, when Julian withheld his tongue and left a long hum of nil, Noel plunged into a state of agitation. At first, his heart was jerked into opposing directions. His mind flipped amid needing something to be said, even if it was his own rambling and overdrawn words. But also, he was still considering simply begging the older man to speak, to mumble, or even exhale aloud. Any noise would've sent aid to Noel. He remains focused, concentrating to retain clarity and gives pleading a go.

_"Please, Ju. Say something."_

Still, the shrill sound of nothing within the flat burns the contents of Noel's organs. He attempts to control his breathing as he feels a tightening in his chest.

And he tries again. Maybe it's just Julian choosing his words carefully. Or maybe Noel hadn't spoken loud enough the first time.

_"Please, say anything." _

Julian wouldn't even look at him; instead it seemed his own hands had become most interesting as his long calloused fingers rubbed against one another in his lap.

After a moment, he watches as Julian picks himself off the couch, his eyes never lifting and strolls out of the room without a single sound except for a door down the hallway closing behind him.

Noel was crushed, a deep ache settling into his ribcage. His head grew light and the image of small beetle being crushed under a kid's sneakers came to mind.

He struggled to remain still as his thoughts rivaled for attention. It's not a viable fight as merely a beat after he hears the door close behind Julian, Noel staggers off the arm of the sofa, scooping up the drink next to him. With one swift gulp, he swallows most of his vodka and something fruity, some dripping down his chin onto the lapels of his jacket. His sight is clouded from the tears forming in his eyes as he races to the front door. On his way to the front of house his arms swing at the pictures on the wall, just managing to knock a frame off its hook.

Noel gives the door a slam as he exits and begins down the steps onto the bitter streets of London.

_"Julian, I-, I can't go on like this. It's killing me."_

_"What?" Julian asks, like he's clueless._

Leather boots padding swiftly on the cement, he barely registers his surroundings. He's on auto-pilot as he routes to his flat.

But his mind goes mad with memories of back stage, dressing rooms, after parties, drunken hands wandering in the back of a taxi, passing out on a shared bed, chances of a cuddle, a small fight over nothing and always ending on a laugh, more shows, more dressing rooms, more after parties, drunken lips brushing in the safety of a flat and then a big fight, an argument on the morality and unlikeliness of a romantic relationship.

He's holding it in, pressing it as far under as he can because he doesn't want to be seen like this and it's still considerable early in the night. Pushing back tears, he pulls his coat tighter.

Noel finally arrives at his flat, and his hands tremble as he tries to unlock his door. Once he gets inside, it's all over.

He's crying now; His gaunt form sunken onto the hard floor of his flat. He couldn't even make it past the foyer. His body is violently shaking from his wild sobs and his wet face scrunched against the sleeves of his green coat.

_Ignoring Julian's feigning ignorance, Noel's gaze never falters. "I love you. Don't leave me. I need you." _

Knowing each other for so long, surely something would've come out beyond friendship. Between the extraordinary long gags with friends or at comedy shows and the intimate conversations amongst the two of them over bottles of wine and smokes feigning to write new material or figure a way to recycle old ideas, it was bound to happen.

How could Julian expect anything less?

Desperate to renew himself, he clung up a wall like a cat, eager to secure his equilibrium.

Eventually he lets go, staggers about the hallway and through his bedroom doorway, til he reaches his bed. Collapsing, he can't help mumbling aloud, "Never could work…."

He flails against his bed, sinking into the sheets and hoping to stabilize himself. With wet eyes, he presses flush against his pillow hoping to silence himself.

With a squished face pressing deep into his downy, he forces himself to think of something else to quiet the tears, but his mind only comes back to him.

_"Hey, can you turn it down?"_

_Wrestling towards the dial of the radio, he consents, "Sure."_

_"Hmm," as Julian continues to flick through his papers. _

_"It could be less overtly flamboyant too." Noel gets a bit nervous now, hoping his hasn't lost his touch because Ju would tell him. He didn't want to feel his disappointment._

_Julian says nothing so Noel keeps on. "And his golden skirt has a shine to it. With matching boots, o' course." _

_Julian isn't really listening. Noel follows his friend's gaze down to the sketches he's done for their new tour. Silence still._

_Noel waits and pushes himself to not say anything. Just give Ju some time. _

_Julian's lips turns into a grin and he looks up at his friend, "These are exceptional, Noel."_

_Like a kid receiving high marks, Noel beams. Giddy, he takes a seat across from Julian at the kitchen table. "You really like 'em?"_

_"Course I do, you knob." He wiggles his nose a bit and questions, "What's gotten into you?"_

_"I was sure you would be concerned with the short skirts." He tries to make it into a joke and gives a little smirk._

_"You've had me in worse. Besides I'm elated to show off my lanky legs." He motions to his limbs with a chuckle. _

_Noel smiles and points out, "You do have nice legs." _

_"Wait a minute." Julian turns his head. "It all makes sense. All the undersized revealing outfits. It's been about my legs the whole time."_

_Noel scoffs but eggs him on. "Yeah, I've been waiting a long time for a pair of stems like those to come round." _

_"Well, you can wait some more, sir. I'll be keeping them for myself." _

_"How very selfish of you. Keeping the pair of hairy treasures to your lonesome. Wouldn't even give a nice lady a chance at them?"_

_He picks up his tea cup. "Maybe if she was good enough."_

_"Well, I'm right here. Make an assessment." _

_Julian barely manages to swallow his English Breakfast. Noel can't help but let out a giggle at his mate's struggle. And Julian lets out a low, "Now, that's it…." _

_He chases Noel into a corner, and pins him against the firm wall with soft lips, and a touch of stubble._

"Fuck." Noel pulls himself off the bed and wills himself to his kitchen. Opening his mostly empty cabinets, he finds a stashed bottle of peach flavored vodka. He tugs off the cap and takes a few enormous gulps, flushing a slight burn down his throat and into his stomach. He gasps for air after and collapses onto the kitchen floor, allowing the alcohol's warmth to possess him.

He can't even think of anything but him. It hasn't been anything but him for ten years. Almost a third of his life.

He slowly breathes out the taste and his left hand begins to pinch the back of the opposite hand holding the bottle. He forces himself to think of anything else, besides the overwhelming sting of a shiny razor cutting through soft flesh. Besides how full he feels, with all the poison liquor in his system from tonight, and what he continues to add. Besides cocaine's numbing drip down the throat. Instead, he wills himself to emphasize the sweet burn and takes in another chug.

It doesn't even taste good. But as the vindictive liquid flows into his cold chest, he welcomes it. The sting takes away worries, cares and his pain.

He slowly breathes through his mouth, but he doesn't even taste the alcohol's bite. His thoughts transfer to darkness, and he tries to pull at his skin again, before he goes limp and tastes only black.


End file.
